


Spring Fever

by flowerfan



Series: Season 7 future!fics [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Season 7 fics, future!fic, sick!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Kurt's not feeling so well...</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Part of a series of “Season 7” drabbles that will take a look at the events in the early married life of Kurt and Blaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spring Fever

Kurt is beginning to wonder whether Blaine had decided to conduct an impromptu a capella concert or find some homes for lost puppies, because for god’s sake, a trip to the drugstore really shouldn’t take this long. By the time Blaine finally comes in the door, packages dangling from his hands, Kurt is down to his last tissue, and is contemplating using the stack of paper napkins on the side table to stem the flow from his nose.

“It’s probably allergies,” Blaine says, pulling three fresh boxes of tissues out of a shopping bag. Kurt wants to strangle him. It’s not allergies, he’s never had allergies before, why would he start now?

“The way this spring has been, so cold for so long and then hot all of a sudden, all the flowers bloomed at once, and all the pollen just exploded... it’s making everyone crazy,” Blaine explains. Kurt looks at him, confused. Had he actually asked the question out loud? His head was so stuffed up, it was hard to tell.

“It’s not allergies,” he mutters, taking the tissue box out of Blaine’s hand and sliding over so that Blaine can join him on the couch. “I’m going to kill the next person who says it is.”

Blaine scoots close to him and nods agreeably. “Well, let’s make sure you don’t answer the phone if Rachel calls, then. She sent out a group text with tips on the best ways to stay hydrated during allergy season. I think she may have made a youtube video about the best way to blow your nose without putting undue pressure on your vocal chords.”

“Is that actually a thing?” Kurt asks, suddenly wondering if he has injured himself irreparably with his frequent attempts to clear his nasal passages. 

“I really don’t think so,” Blaine says. “But I’d hate for you to kill Rachel. Especially not since she said she’d bring over some chicken soup later. She even promised to get it with actual chicken in it this time.” Rachel has been known to use the phrase “chicken soup” rather loosely in the past, coming over with vegan variations that bore no resemblance to the real thing. There’s nothing worse than looking forward to chicken soup and getting kale bisque. 

Blaine starts straightening up the little nest Kurt has created for himself, fluffing the pillows and untangling the soft throw Kurt had dragged out from their bedroom. Kurt sees a concerned look come over Blaine’s face as he takes in the many piles of used tissues on the coffee table, the floor, and around Kurt on the couch. He feels too awful to be neat, but he has to admit it’s pretty disgusting.

But Blaine just looks sympathetic, grabbing a clean tissue and using it to gather the dirty ones up into the plastic bag from the drugstore. “You’ve certainly gone through a lot of tissues. That’s can’t feel very good on your skin. Maybe try to ease up?”

Kurt is about to point out the impossibility of this – you can’t just not blow when you need to blow -- when he feels another sneeze coming on, and braces himself as he shudders with the force of it. 

“Oh honey, you poor thing,” Blaine says, rubbing Kurt’s back as he pants, trying to catch his breath. 

“I just want it to stop,” Kurt mutters, leaning into Blaine’s shoulder. Everything hurts, and he doesn’t want to move, but it feels better to be close to Blaine, even when Kurt is so miserable. His husband’s skin is cool, and he figures he probably smells good, too. But he can’t tell – he hasn’t been able to smell anything properly all day.

Blaine leans over and presses a gentle kiss to Kurt’s forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment. It’s Blaine’s favorite way to judge whether Kurt is sick. When he pulls back, he’s frowning. “Kurt, you’re burning up. Have you taken your temperature?”

Kurt shook his head. “Couldn’t find the thermometer.”

Blaine eases off the couch and goes into the bathroom, coming back quickly with the thermometer in his hand. “Did you actually look for it? Because it was right in the front of the medicine cabinet.”

Kurt looks up at Blaine, who clearly doesn’t appreciate how difficult it is for him to even walk across the room right now. The bathroom might as well be in Antarctica, for all the good it does him. “Does it matter?”

“Of course not,” Blaine says, smiling softly. Kurt knows he’s being humored, but he figures he’s entitled to it. It’s only his due as the sick one.

Blaine perches himself on the coffee table across from Kurt and holds out the thermometer. “Under your tongue, please.”

Kurt complies with a sigh, hoping he can at least keep from sneezing for a few minutes while he balances the thermometer in his mouth. He sniffles a bit, and sags back against the couch, a hand to his mouth to keep the thermometer in place. Because of course he can’t close his mouth, he needs it to breathe with, given the state of his nose. When the thermometer beeps, Blaine takes it out and his face softens in sympathy.

“What’s the verdict?” Kurt asks.

“101.8.” Blaine passes it to him so he can see for himself.

“Told you it isn’t just allergies,” Kurt mumbles, grabbing another tissue from the box and blowing forcefully.

“I’m afraid you’re right. I don’t suppose you’ve taken any ibuprofen?” When Kurt shakes his head, Blaine busies himself finding the medication and making sure Kurt drinks an entire bottle of water to wash down the pills, and then coaxes Kurt into bed. He makes Kurt change his t-shirt, and then sits next to him, running his fingers through his damp hair. It feels so good, Kurt doesn’t even care about how he must look. “Sleep for a while, honey, you’ll feel better when you wake up,” Blaine says encouragingly. Kurt nods against his pillow, and within moments, he’s asleep.

Sure enough, Kurt wakes up a few hours later, feeling more human than he has in days. Blaine brings him some of the soup Rachel dropped off, and they eat it in bed while watching a Saturday Night Live rerun. Kurt notices Blaine gazing at him fondly as he laughs at Weekend Edition, and he puts his bowl of soup aside and snuggles closer to him. “Thank you for taking care of me,” he says softly, nuzzling his still stuffed nose up against the warm skin of Blaine’s neck.

“Always,” Blaine replies, pulling the blankets up and tucking them around Kurt. “I am curious about something, though,” he says thoughtfully, shifting on his side to look at Kurt.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you take some ibuprofen earlier? You know it always helps when you feel this bad.”

Kurt barks out a laugh that turns into a series of hacking coughs. When he calms down, he looks at Blaine sheepishly. “I thought it was just allergies.”


End file.
